


It isn’t without challenges

by kazarina



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Almost no plot, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, Yes some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21996313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazarina/pseuds/kazarina
Summary: Damen and Laurent have a fight and Laurent takes off, thoroughly preventing Damen from finding him. At least for a while.Police Damen and sort of criminal Laurent.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 112





	It isn’t without challenges

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :) I’m suppose to be puzzling out my other fic but instead wrote this one shot just for fun. Hope you like it.

Damen is pacing. He takes one step after another in a more-than-moderate pace, winding around the dining table and then the couch and back again, and again. It’s been a week since Laurent left and his feelings as each day went by was a startling mirror image of the awful ache in his chest as he takes each step now: That he cannot believe that it can get any harder and more painful, but it can and it does. 

Damen has done everything he knows as a detective, everything legal. He’s done everything he can off the books as well, asking all his contacts and even to the extent of promising to return unspecified favours for any news of Laurent. Damen is just on the verge of breaking the law and everything he stands for, and it is this that almost makes him want to laugh in the bitterest irony. With a wide suddenly violent sweep of his arm, Damen knocks over a number of items on the dining table, unable to hold back the weight of his emotions anymore; A bowl of fruits, two glasses – last drank by Laurent and himself – a notebook, an assortment of pens and pencils, and a jar of biscuits – the kind that Laurent likes – and Laurent’s very blank cellphone end up scattered across the tiled black and white floor. Laurent likes his floor the best. He said it reminded him of Alice in Wonderland, a favourite childhood book, and Damen always can’t help teasing him – “Don’t you like the bedroom?”

With a pang in his heart, Damen remembers vividly the last thing he said to Laurent, “I am a fucking police officer!” He had yelled, and Laurent, very still apart from fine tremors, with his blue eyes hard as chiselled marble, had replied in the quietest of voices, “Then why couldn’t I count on you when I was thirteen?” They were in the bedroom then, and Laurent left slamming the door shut. When Damen recovered enough to go after Laurent, not more than five minutes later, he found the door jammed. In his panic, he ripped the door from its hinges and broke it. Internal doors are quite weak. It was no use. Laurent was gone, and the front door was less easily broken down. With a string of swear words that suited Laurent a lot more than himself, Damen called Nikandros who arrived in thirty minutes. 

“Jesus, did you piss someone off?” Nik asked over the phone, while presumably staring at the wreckage of his front door lock. 

“What’s he done?” Damen said loudly, walking towards his front door, and ending the call when he realised Nik must have arrived. 

“I don’t know, Damen.” Nik sounds dazed, “It’s a mess. You have to get someone to cut this out.”

“What? You’re kidding. Take a picture and show me.” Damen said. 

Nik does, but not before he adds, “Your uh lock, looks a little melted, with a couple of metal bits stuck in them. I’ve tried to pull them out but there’s too little of it for leverage.”

Damen looks at the picture and swears very loudly and fervently. He spends only a moment wondering where Laurent got a blow torch from, if that’s what he used, and then quickly discarded further thoughts on that – it was useless to think about that. The only thought that comes to mind, resolutely repeating in his head, is that he’s not going to wait for some locksmith to fix this. 

“Nik, I’m going to try to get out from the balcony.” 

The apartment Damen lives in is on the third floor, and Nik is a very good friend. Damen digs out the harness that has been living with all the other useless, outdated gear that he has had no use for until now, and then pulls out the ropes and pulley set and everything else he needs. It takes fifteen minutes to set up, and an additional fifteen minutes for Nik to worry about every test they should do with old manual equipment. These days, even the station would be equipped with better technology and automatic systems, but Damen doesn’t want to wait for Nik to go back to the station. 

Once out of the apartment, he leaves Nik – thank god for Nik – to sort out the problem of his front door and speeds off in all the usual places he might find Laurent in. No luck. He’s run every check he can from his office. No, Laurent hasn’t left the country. Or maybe he did, under a different name. No, Laurent’s credit card hasn’t been used. By the end of the night, Damen is utterly confounded and there is a growing pressure in his chest that threatens to overwhelm him, should he stop doing what he’s doing. 

The next days pass in a blur as Damen stops by Nicaise, who claims he hasn’t seen Laurent. When Damen presses his suspicions on him, Nicaise almost growls in response. “If you know Laurent at all, then you know he’s good at disappearing. I couldn’t find him if I wanted to.” 

With eyes furious and glowering, Nicaise says, “What the hell did you do?” 

Damen is on the verge of uttering some threat or other – he knows Nicaise possesses Marijuana – to get Nicaise to talk, in case Nicaise is hiding Laurent. But he decides not to. Laurent would be mad at him if he does. It’s _Nicaise_ after all. 

“Call me if he shows up.” Damen says instead, and leaves before despair breaks him down. 

For the past few nights, Damen had been replying the last time he had seen Laurent enough times to realise his mistake. Laurent, having lived on the other side of the law for almost a decade, has little faith in law enforcement, and Damen adamant on clinging to strict ideas of right and wrong had eroded what little trust Laurent had. He could almost hear Laurent wondering, _can you still help me if it was against the law? Would you protect me or throw me to the wolves?_

Of course he would. Damen would go all the way to hell and back for Laurent. But Laurent didn’t know that, and it all came out wrong. He didn’t mean to go against Laurent’s plan - backup plan he should say – but then again, he didn’t expect Laurent to take off like that. 

A part of Damen was supremely hurt, and befuddled that Laurent would do this to him. They _had_ won, they had put his uncle in jail where he wouldn’t hurt anyone else. They had shared sweet moments. And goddamn it, he had kissed Laurent, who opened up beneath his hands, and surrendered the tension in his body, layer by layer. And Laurent had clung on to him, later, when he came, all mussed up hair, sweat-slicked and beautiful. Damen had never known it could be like this with anyone. There was never anyone Damen had wanted to protect more. 

Several more days passed. It was lucky that it was relatively quiet at work. Most of the new cases were not complicated and easily handled by his junior staff, leaving him time to ponder on Laurent’s whereabouts. He followed a credit card purchase trail, only to find out that Laurent had handed over his credit card to some random homeless person, and then cancelled it days later. On the off chance that Laurent was watching his personal email, he had sent an email to himself, with the subject, “To Laurent” and written a whole page of apologies. His heart sank when nothing happened within the day. Just to be sure, he sent the email to himself three more times, if only because he didn’t have any other ideas. 

The only thing that Damen was productive on, was following news of _the_ case: The case against the de Vere Senior, Laurent’s uncle, and all its related proceedings. He filed the paperwork and expedited any processes he could unashamedly using his position of Senior Detective.

Laurent had committed several crimes in his feud with his uncle, some of it for his survival and others probably for causing damage to his uncle. But Laurent had also helped Damen obtain evidence on his uncle. That was how they met in the first place. Together, they worked together to bring down the pedophile ring he ran. Time and time again, Laurent willingly put himself in danger – much to Damen’s consternation – disobeying Damen’s direct orders. Altogether, it should have been relatively straightforward to get Laurent off any charges he might have. Damen had in fact _promised_ Laurent at the start. That was before they fell in love. 

Not so. The de Vere Senior had either called in favours, or still had enough allies to want to see Laurent go down with him. And Laurent can’t be in jail. It’s a death sentence for him there. De Vere has enough allies in prison to aim them at the man who put them all there. So Laurent, with a myriad of backup plans in his pocket, had shared them with Damen, willingly and openly. And Damen had shit on it all since they were all of them quite illegal. 

Only now did he stop to think about what that meant to Laurent, to share his plans with another person, when he had only himself to rely on since he was thirteen. What would it have cost him? Damen couldn’t imagine how vulnerable Laurent would have felt. 

More than week had gone by, and still nothing. Damen left a message with Nicaise, a message full of apologies and worries, as Nicaise stared at him sullenly. 

“Tell him I’m sorry, tell him I miss him, tell him to please come back.” Damen said, pleadingly, not caring if it made him look stupid. It was very different the last time he came here, when he was all authoritative and questioning. 

This time, it seems to have done something for Nicaise, whose expression is much softened, “I’ll tell him if I see him. But I’m not lying, I really haven’t.” 

That night, Damen left yet more messages on various forums. If it made him looks desperate and stupid, well, he was past the stage of caring. Laurent was bound to monitor the web, surely he would, that would be how he kept himself hidden and obtain information. If he didn’t come, it was because he didn’t want to. Damen felt an odd mix of emotions, and the one that simmered at the surface the most was how much Damen missed him. He missed Laurent pressing his lips against his in that gentle, slightly hesitant way. He missed having Laurent’s back against his chest. He missed the way Laurent quirked his lips up and flung some other witty comment back at him. Laurent, I miss you, he thought to himself, breathing deeply through the hole in his chest.

Saturday morning came. Damen went out to buy groceries, for the first time in the last two weeks. He had skipped a number of meals and had way too much takeout. He was also starting to need a number of household items, so he went. Carrying two large bags, and enough food to last him for two weeks, he turned his key in the lock, nudging the door open with his foot, and was greeted by the sight of Laurent on the couch, delicately holding a mug of tea to his lips. From his vantage point, and with the morning light pouring in, he could see the smoke from the hot tea curling upwards.

Damen drops the bags to the ground, and strides over, completely dumbfounded. He’s imagined a million times that he might find Laurent this way, but he couldn’t have predicted the rush of emotions that hover like a cloud over his mind. Again, he said the dumb thing that later, he would take back in a heartbeat. 

“How could you do that to me!” Damen yells out, his raised voice full of anguish. It breaks Laurent’s composure, and for a moment, he looks as stunned as Damen feels. Then the walls are back up, and Laurent stands up from the couch and retreats against the glass windows. 

A part of Damen notes that that is no place to run – a good thing – and the other part of him immediately regrets his harsh first words. He had been more angry than he realised, but the fire had dissipated along with the outburst. Then he’s crowding over Laurent, and taking his cool hands into his own, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you. I know why you ran, I’m not angry. I missed you.” Damen says into Laurent’s hair. 

Laurent, head bowed, and very still, swallows, and says, “I’m sorry too.” 

Damen takes a step back, and studies Laurent in earnest now. He looks remarkably well, apart from red-rimmed eyes indicating sleepless nights. He’s wearing a plain navy blue shirt that complements the shade of his azure blue eyes, and light colored fitting jeans. There are two earrings on one of his ears that Damen has never seen before. 

When Damen notices them, Laurent says, “Don’t ask. I won a bet.” 

Damen wants to ask what kind of bet requires you to wear earrings, but he doesn’t. Instead, he tilts Laurent’s face, so that he can look into his eyes. What he finds there makes his chest ache again. One of his hands come up to run through the soft blond hair and he leans in to press his lips against Laurent’s. He feels Laurent shudder from his other hand that is placed at Laurent’s shoulder and he can hear himself make a sound at that, a kind of moan that is part desperation and part joy. Laurent, for his part, is silent, only making small brushes of his lips against Damen’s, but unmistakably participating in the kiss. Damen doesn’t know when or how, or who initiated it, but the next time he is conscious of his thoughts, he is holding on to Laurent as if for dear life, pressed tight against him all the way in front. Laurent is doing the same as well, pulling Damen in towards himself, his kisses less contained now. When Damen moves his lips down the side of Laurent’s neck, he makes a small sound that changes his breathing. In between kisses, Damen is vaguely aware he’s saying something. _You’re here. You came back. You don’t know what it was like. I missed you so much. I would go to the ends of the earth for you. You have to know that._ If Laurent made sense of his incoherent mumbling, then his response is to clutch at him tighter. 

Laurent briefly breaks himself out of Damen’s grip and steps sideways against the glass window. He’s panting slightly and breathless. The frenzied look in his eyes isn’t gone, but he says with a half smile, “You should put away your groceries, Damen.”

“Do you promise to stay right here?” Damen says.

“It might be a bit hard for me to help you with what looks like three weeks of food from this very spot.” Laurent says.

Damen doesn’t want to let go of Laurent’s hand so he tugs him along as he walks to the front door, each of them picking up one bag before heading to the kitchen. They stack the groceries in silence. When Laurent puts everything in the right spot, in the usual spot, Damen realised just how much Laurent had become a part of his life. 

“Were you planning to hole yourself up here for three weeks?” Laurent says, as he scrunches up the reusable bag, and tucks it into a drawer. 

“Just two.” Damen replies. He can’t help an almost goofy smile that looks like it’s here to stay for the rest of the day, or the week, or the year.

“This is why I insist on buying the groceries.” Laurent says scathingly with a roll of his eyes. “And stop looking at me like that.” He added.

“Like what?” Damen says, as Laurent tucks the second bag into the drawer. Damen catches both of Laurent’s hands, backing him against the refrigerator. “Now what?” 

There is a wicked light in Laurent’s eyes, as he says, “Now we should go to the bedroom.” 

Damen’s cock responds to that suggestion and that tone, before he can say anything, and he can’t think of anything to say anyway, so he leans in to kiss Laurent again, who is obliging and pliant under him. One of his hands come up between them to unbutton the top three buttons of Laurent’s shirt, so that he can place his hand inside. He doesn’t know if it is his hands or Laurent’s that undoes the rest of the buttons, but that’s not important. The feel of Laurent’s lightly muscled chest draws all his attention, and he moves his hand slowly, running them over Laurent’s nipple. This is what Laurent likes, slow caresses and soft kisses, and he wants to give it all to Laurent. Over and over again, he slides his hand in front, around the back, feeling the familiar smooth skin under his palm. 

Laurent has his hands up Damen’s T-shirt, lightly feeling him over in the way that only Laurent does. It’s not excessive, it’s not rough, but each touch gives him away in his desire to feel more. When Damen pulls Laurent’s shirt off him and drops it on the floor, Laurent is pink and heated and the blush spreads down to all of his chest. Damen has a deep desire to see all of him now. It is selfish perhaps, so he pauses frequently, in undoing Laurent’s belt, giving him ample opportunities to stop. 

“In the kitchen?” Laurent says breathless. He doesn’t move away, and Damen can’t help himself now. He hooks his fingers on both sides of the waistband, feeling bare skin on the back of his knuckles and pulls down Laurent’s jeans along with his briefs. Laurent sucks in a breath, and it is a sound Damen wants to remember for the rest of his life. Damen looks up at Laurent’s face, and he looks dazed. His cock is hard and dripping and beautiful as the rest of him bared. Damen touches the tip of it, which makes Laurent arch back a little. And then Laurent, blushing hard, is decisively taking Damen’s clothes off. Damen lifts his hands to help with taking off the shirt, and then returns to what he was doing before – running his hands, gloriously, down Laurent’s side and around his ass. There is a moment he can’t think anymore and his hands stop because Laurent is pressing against him, the length of him against his cock, thigh against thigh and chest against chest and he breathes out, “God, Laurent.” 

“You still want to stay in the kitchen? Or are you ready to go to the bedroom?” Laurent says, with only a quarter of his usual bite, against his chest. 

Damen kisses Laurent again, quickly, and holds one of his hands, “Let’s go.” The brief moment of separation makes the anticipation in him grow to almost a painful point. And then he’s on the bed – the bed that Laurent and him had slept in for weeks before Laurent left – and he’s kissing Laurent everywhere. The soft sounds of pleasure Laurent makes are familiar to his ears, and makes him giddy with his own pleasure, and want and need to make Laurent feel good. When he looks up after kissing Laurent’s bare stomach, it is Laurent’s trusting eyes that mesmerises him. It’s the way he looks at him as if he’s never looked at anyone else. Damen bends back down and puts his mouth on him, his tongue working the tip and his hand making slow gentle movements. Laurent makes involuntary shifts in response. Damen hasn’t done this often, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he knows it makes Laurent uncomfortable that he cannot reciprocate. And sure enough, Laurent is slightly pulling away, half coming up on his elbows, despite his desire, despite the fact that Damen knows he likes this.

So Damen doesn’t give him an option. He follows Laurent’s half-escaping motions to the point where Laurent is sitting up and leaning against the bed frame. 

“I don’t –” Laurent begins, but Damen stops long enough to say, “I know. I don’t care.” Laurent doesn’t say anything more, and relaxes a little, spreading his thighs further, which gives Damen the confirmation that there isn’t an actual objection here. He continues to work Laurent, trailing his hand across the inside of his thigh, and further down below.

“Damen,” Laurent warns, in a strangled voice, which was what Damen had been waiting for, and he drags a finger across Laurent’s entrance, all the while keeping up his hand movement and his tongue. It works. It pushes Laurent right over the edge, and he arches as he comes, collapsing back against the bedframe when it’s done. 

Damen wipes a hand across his mouth, and kisses the side of his thighs, almost reverently. His own cock is hard with desire, dripping, and almost, he thinks he can come untouched. 

Laurent rises towards him, legs spread on each side of Damen, and manoeuvrers himself almost on to Damen’s lap. He touches Damen’s curls lightly, “I want to _feel_ you in me.” He says. Laurent has this way of making his words count, of spiking Damen’s arousal in only a few words, of putting so many suggestions into the tone.

“Laurent…” He says, “God, Laurent.” He wants to say something, to say that he didn’t just want Laurent back for sex. They didn’t need to, today, but it is half-hearted, because he can’t resist Laurent. He never could. Damen grabs the lube, even as Laurent turns himself over in one smooth motion. Bared to him this way, he couldn’t help running a hand over curves and kissing each cheek. 

He nibbles a little with his lips, testing the waters, and listening carefully to Laurent’s breathing, then bit gently. It isn’t painful enough to hurt, but Laurent immediately jerked and twisted around, sucking in a breath. “Sorry,” Damen said immediately. 

“No,” Laurent counters, “I like it.” 

Oh. Damen pours the lube over his fingers and over Laurent’s hole, then slowly begins to open him up with one finger, kissing and biting gently. It takes some time, then he added two fingers and then three, to be sure.

“Is it okay?” He whispers. 

“Yes.” Laurent breathes. 

“Okay.” Damen says, and then angles himself over, holding himself in position. When he pushes in, both Laurent and himself exhale in unsteady breaths. 

‘I… I missed this…” Laurent says, head bowed, and fingers clutching the sheets. 

Damen can’t speak. He wants to say something, but he can’t decide between saying Laurent’s name over and over again or swearing all the profanities he can think of. Instead, he begins a gentle rocking motion, pressing his chest against Laurent’s back, and maneuverers them in a position that works. Then he is moving in shallow thrusts that builds up to a rhythm. He reaches under Laurent, pleased to find him hard and wet again and holds him there as he continues the thrusting. It builds in a crescendo, and then Damen feels like white hot bliss all over. Judging from Laurent’s shudders, he feels the same way too. Damen holds Laurent against him tight, until the waves subside and then he is pulling out soft. He kisses Laurent on the back once more before lying down beside him. Laurent has his eyes closed and he opens them cautiously to look up at Damen, who wordlessly pulls him in close. He is clinging on to Laurent as much as Laurent is clinging on to him, both of them equal in their shared desire for closeness. 

They managed, after a while, to pull themselves up to clean up and lie back down again. Laurent is lying against Damen’s chest, and the afternoon sun is beating down upon them from the window. 

“I would do anything for you.” Damen says softly, “You know that right? I would give up this job for us to have a life.” 

Laurent stiffens, “I don’t want you to give up your job.” He says quietly. 

“Nothing is more important than us. I don’t want you questioning it again.” Damen says.

“You don’t want me to leave again.” Laurent interprets. 

“Yeah.” Damen says. 

Laurent has read something in his eyes, something that makes him look stricken. “I’m sorry.” Laurent turns in and presses his face close. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“I’m sorry too.” Damen pulls Laurent close. He shifts, so that he can cup each side of Laurent’s face with his hands, “Don’t do that again.” 

Laurent nods mutely. 

“We can work everything out. You’re not on your own.” Damen adds. 

Laurent again, nods. 

It’s a new feeling for Laurent, who thinks he has enough self-restraint that he can tear himself apart from Damen again if he wants to. But it is the look on Damen’s face that stops him and makes him regret ever doing that. Now, he realises, that Damen, full of pride, would burn metaphoric cities to look for him. Now, he realises, that protecting Damen in one way does not equate to another. Now, he’s beginning to understand that it’s okay to make selfish choices, because it’s what Damen wants too. That Laurent’s welfare _is_ Damen’s welfare, and the two can’t be separated. They are a unit, a team, partners. Partners, he tasted the word in his mind. It feels odd, but it also feels right, because what else can that bubbling, warm feeling in him be? He’s almost annoyed at himself for feeling so sentimental. 

“So,” Laurent tilts his head and arches an eyebrow in that imperial haughty way. “Are we going to lie naked in bed all afternoon, or do you think you can make use of those groceries that you bought?”


End file.
